What Good Does It Do Love Enough, Hate Enough
by misscam
Summary: There are not many tears shed for Uther Pendragon. A murder. A proposal. An attempted murder. Love, hate and all the choices they bring.  Arthur/Gwen, light Merlin/Morgana


What Good Does It Do (Love Enough, Hate Enough)  
by misscam

Summary: There are not many tears shed for Uther Pendragon. A murder. A proposal. An attempted murder. Love, hate and all the choices they bring. [Arthur/Gwen, light Merlin/Morgana]

Rating: Teen. Adult activities, some violence.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

Author's Note: Set at some undetermined time in a future. Spoilers for episode 3x05. Many thanks to clevermonikerr for beta and title assistance.

II

Morgana is as beautiful as her mother, Uther thinks. For so many years, all he saw in the daughter, was the echo of the mother. So lovely. So very lovely.

Now, her sword held high, he sees the echo of himself, as unyielding and unforgiving as a rock. She is his daughter, in heart if not in looks.

"I hate you," she says, and pushes down.

"Morgana," he gasps, the steel cold as it slices through him. She doesn't even flinch as the blood sprays her. 

How just like him, Uther thinks, and it is the last thought he ever has.

II  
  
There are not many tears shed for Uther Pendragon. There are words spoken for the loss of a king, but they are impersonal, spoken in remembrance, not in grief. Not even his son cries, though he fights back a few tears to remain stoic.

Gwen does not cry. She cannot, not for Uther. She does feel grief, but it is for Arthur's loss, not for her own. Arthur will miss his father and all the unresolved between them, now to remain so forever. Camelot will bury one king and crown another. Few will miss the man.

But of those few, Gwen was expecting to count Morgana. Almost like a daughter, she had been to Uther, yet here she stands, like ice rather than sorrow at his funeral.

Morgana isn't grieving, and Gwen cannot help but wonder why. She isn't the only one either, judging by the way Merlin is watching Morgana intently. There is something in his gaze that seems almost like suspicion, and Gwen shivers.

Arthur seems to notice, loosening his cape and putting it around her. She can feel everyone's gaze on her as he does, and she can almost hear the speculation and gossiping it will start already.

"I am fine," she tells him, but his hand still lingers on her shoulder, staying there for the rest of the funeral rites.

And like so, Uther Pendragon is put to rest on a grey, rainy day; at least the skies shed some tears if no one else will.

II

After everyone else has left, Morgana stays at the tomb. She knows others will think it is out of grief, because all knew how highly in regard and love Uther held his ward.

Except, of course, she was never just his ward. She is his daughter, never acknowledged and thus denied her birthright. Not just the crown she should have had, but the chance to use magic freely and without fear, too.

"Goodbye, father," she says, and the words echo back at her as she walks away.

II

"Uther is dead," Morgause muses, watching the mirror in her hands. Speaking it aloud seems to make it more real, more triumphant. Morgana has done it, and now there is just one more death needed. One death until Morgana tearfully proclaims her discovered heritage and takes the throne in Uther's memory. (It would have been better if Uther had been last to die, but Morgana has a mind of her own too.)

Just like they talked about.

II

"They do not know who killed Uther," Gaius tells Merlin as they eat supper, but the boy merely shakes his head.

"I do," he says. 

II

"I want the murderer found," Arthur instructs his knights. They have all gathered in the throne room for the first morning of his rule, and he knows they will be watching him carefully from now one. Trying to judge his character, trying to anticipate how to best serve him, trying to figure out what sort of king he will make.

What sort of king. He is not even sure of that himself, but he is sure of one thing.

"Today has been a day of sorrow," he goes on. "But my father would wish this kingdom to flourish and prosper even after his passing. It is with that in mind, I wish this day to have the promise of joy for the future also. Camelot has been far too long without a queen."

Guinevere looks up sharply, her eyes very wide as he walks over to her. He can hear low murmurs behind him, but he ignores them, instead kneeling before her and taking her hand.

"It would make Camelot a blessed kingdom indeed to have you as its queen. But most of all, it would make me the luckiest of all humble men if you were my wife."

The murmurs have become started gasps, but he still ignores them, keeping his gaze on Gwen's face. She looks as startled as them, but slowly, her lips start turning upwards.

"Who wrote that speech for you?" she asks.

"Merlin," he admits. "Though I left out the part about how you are more lovely than a summer's evening and smell better than a rose."

Someone coughs; it is probably Merlin feeling embarrassed.

"I see," Gwen says softly. "And how would you choose to ask without his wise counsel?"

He thinks, trying to remember some of the poetic phrases Merlin recited, but all that seems to come to mind is that love rhymes with stove, but that is hardly romantic, perhaps unless he was proposing to a kitchen maid.

There is only one thing that comes to mind.

"Guinevere, will you marry me?" he asks, and she bends down also, her eyes so very warm as they meet his.

"Yes," she says.

II

When Morgana enters the room and sees her brother kissing his bride to be with very unkingly enthusiasm, Merlin watches her reaction, wanting to see at least one flicker of happiness for them.

All he sees is cold.

II

When he hears the news, Gaius cannot help but smile. Love can change many things, he's seen it before.

Still, it will be something new to see it change a kingdom.

II

Suddenly, everyone is bowing to her.

It is a strange thing, Gwen has to admit, to be the maid at morning and treated as royalty at midday.

Arthur has insisted she take rooms at the castle, and from the way they are already furnished and cleaned, she suspects he and Merlin has been planning this since at least yesterday.

There are even flowers, and a very romantic note Arthur has certainly not written on his own. It is rather strange, almost feeling like she's being wooed by two men in a joint venture.

Still, it doesn't quite feel like home, and instead she walks to a room that feels far more homely.

"Morgana?" she asks, entering. The room is silent, and showing the signs of having no maid this morning. It is impossible not to right that, and Gwen figures as she has not married Arthur yet, she can still consider herself a little maid-ly.

It is as she straightens the bed cloth she almost trips over the creaking floorboard. It tilts upwards, revealing the silk underneath, and as Gwen tugs at it, she realises it is one of Morgana's dresses.

And odd place to keep a dress, at least until she sees the blood on it and a chilling realisation of why it might be hidden settles in her.

"Morgana," she whispers, but the room offers no reply.

II

"To your marriage," Morgana says, holding up her goblet; Arthur smiles as he holds up his, and then drinks happily.

"To the future Queen!" he says.

Indeed, she thinks.

II 

Gwen runs, fear following her like a shadow until she reaches Arthur's room, and then it seems to explode in her chest.

Arthur is on the floor, face pale as ice, and Morgana is kneeling over him, the faintest smile on her lips. When she turns around and sees Gwen, it fades, but what is seen cannot be unseen.

"Guards!" Gwen calls, just as the force of magic slams her into the wall.

II

Uther.

Arthur.

And Gwen, if she must, but it gives her no pleasure.

Nothing does any more, Morgana thinks, just as something slams into her, knocking her head hard into the wall.

The last thing she sees is the shape of Merlin in the door; his eyes like fire.

II

Merlin watches from the shadow as Gwen sits by Arthur's side, clutching his hands and seeming to will him to life.

"It is fortunate that you found him so fast," Gaius tells her. "We were able to drain some of the poison from him. He has a chance, Gwen."

She nods, her lips pale and the bruise at her temple still bloody. She has refused to have it treated so far, as if the pain of it for her would mean less pain for Arthur.

"Can you use magic?" she asks, but it is not to Gaius. It is to him, Merlin realises, as she looks at him.

So. She saw.

"I will try," he promises, walking over. "I do not know if Arthur would wish me to."

"He is not like Uther," she says, turning to look at Arthur again and stroking his cheek gently.

"He is not," Merlin agrees; like father, not like son.

II

Morgana wakes to find herself in the dungeons of Camelot, and for a while she just lies there, watching the stone of the ceiling.

She could try magic she break herself out, she supposes, but her head feels heavy and nothing seems to move when she wills it to.

Maybe her will is not really in it, she thinks.

"Arthur will live," Gwen's voice says, and Morgana looks up to see her former maid in the doorway, several guards behind her. "Why, Morgana? Arthur has never done anything to you. He loves you like a sister."

"Just like," Morgana says. It almost doesn't sound like her voice. "I am not just like his sister, I _am _his sister. I am Uther's daughter, and not just his ward."

"Uther was your father?"

"Yes. I should have been Morgana Pendragon, but Uther never acknowledged me."

"And you killed him," Gwen says, blinking away tears. They can't be for Uther, Morgana is sure. They can't be.

"He killed your father. How can you not hate him?" she asks.

Gwen closes her eyes, an expression of pain crossing her face. But when she opens her eyes again, they are just soft, no hardness in them.

"What good would that do?" she says simply.

II

After Gwen has left the dungeon, she sinks down on the nearest stairway, feeling that her legs just cannot carry her any more. After a while, Merlin comes to sit down next to her.

"She has been working with Morgause since she returned," he tells her. "This is not the first time they have plotted together."

"I felt she had changed after she came back," she replies. "I cannot believe she has turned to evil. I cannot..."

"I know," he says softly.

"Why? Why has she changed like this?"

"It is not magic that has made her so," he says. "It is what Uther would blame it on, but it is not the cause."

She nods faintly, leaning her head against his shoulder. "How long have you used magic?"

"Always," he says simply.

"I am too tired to shout at you for not telling me," she says. He smiles faintly.

"It is not that I did not trust you, Gwen. I just didn't want you to have to keep such a secret from Arthur. You love him."

"We both love Morgana," she says, biting her lip. "How will I tell him this?"

"How will I tell him I'm a sorcerer and have hidden it from him all this time?" Merlin replies.

"Honestly?" she suggests. "And ready to duck flying objects."

When he laughs, she joins in; it turns to tears soon enough.

II

When Arthur wakes in the morning, Gwen is wiping his face gently, Merlin is leaning against the wall in the corner, and Gaius is sitting in a chair by the bed.

There is only Morgana missing to make it his adopted family, and he wonders why.

When he learns why, he wishes he had never asked at all.

II

Arthur walks into the dungeon with such a regal air that for a moment, all Morgana can see is the shadow of Uther. It is almost like a ghost visiting her, an echo haunting her.

"Guinevere and Merlin have informed me you are responsible for the murder of the king and for the attempted murder of me," he says, cold and distant. Then he seems to catch himself, his eyes brimming with uncried tears.

"I have already loved you like a sister," he says. "What more can I give you?"

"The throne," she says. She will not cry. She will not. There are no tears left in her. They have all been wasted and changed nothing.

His shoulders seem to slump, and he turns away for a long time; she watches the lines of his back.

"You cannot rule after what you have done," he says finally.

"So what will you do with me? Kill me? You know it is what Uther would do."

"I'm not sure any of us know what our father would do," he says.

One of them is lying, Morgana knows. To the other and to themselves. She just isn't sure who it is.

II

When Arthur walks out of the dungeon, Gwen embraces him; they cling to each other for a long time.

II

Merlin has prepared himself well for the reveal – removed all sharp objects, glued a few heavy items to the floor and put several soft pillows in strategic places; Arthur will want to throw something.

But when Arthur enters, Merlin remembers he has quite forgotten to write the big, eloquent speech he had planned.

Right. Honesty will do.

"Arthur, I am a sorcerer," he says, and ready himself to duck.

Nothing comes. Instead Arthur blinks a little stupidly, then just sits down and puts his hand on his forehead.

"Of course," he says tiredly. "Morgana is my sister and murdered my father. I was nearly murdered by my best friend growing up and you're a sorcerer. Of course."

"Aren't you going to throw something?"

"Tomorrow I will dunk you in a vat of lye."

"Oh, good," Merlin says, making a mental note to find some sort of lye-protection spell or potion.

"Merlin, what am I going to do with her?" Arthur says, his voice breaking slightly.

"I once showed mercy to a dragon," he says. Arthur gives him a sharp look. "Yes, that dragon. It is a very long story."

"I think you have quite a few long stories to tell me."

"Yes. But the point is, she is like the dragon."

"Merlin, sometimes your metaphors are dafter than you."

"Just hear me out. The dragon was done an injustice and it wrecked a terrible revenge, even on the innocent. Maybe it didn't deserve mercy. Maybe she doesn't. But your choices doesn't just impact them. They impact you too. They change you."

Arthur stares at the wall, and after a few minutes Merlin turns to leave; it is then he feels the pillow hit him squarely on the head.

He smiles as he leaves. Somehow, now he knows Arthur will carry this too and be the same annoying prat as ever.

II

Gwen sits on Morgana's bed when Arthur finds her. She looks heartbroken, her legs tucked underneath her and tears still clinging to her lashes.

He frowns a little as he notices she still has not cleaned her wound.

"You should have Gaius look at that," he says, kissing her temple as he sits down next to her.

"I want it to scar," she tells him. "Better to have it out there than in here."

She touches her breast absent-mindedly, then leans into him as he puts his arm around her.

"I want to hate her," he says frankly. "She killed my father. Our father. He loved her. I know he had his faults, but he did not deserve this. _Morgana_. I can't... It would be so easy to just hate her."

"I can't hate her," Gwen says, and he nods faintly. He can't either.

"Merlin thinks I should let Morgana go," he says after a while. "She seems to think father would have killed her for sure."

"What do you think?" she asks. "Morgana chose one path, Merlin chose another. Uther chose one path. You can choose another. What do you think, Arthur Pendragon?"

"I think I love you very much," he says.

II

Merlin says nothing as he walks in, but she can tell he is on his guard. As he has been for a long time now around her, and she doesn't want to remember a time when he wasn't. It would feel too much like dwelling on a loss.

"I was wondering when you would come," she says. "Why did you never tell me you were a warlock?"

"I wanted to," he admits.

"You had as much reason to want to see Uther dead as I," she says bitterly. "It all works out for you now, doesn't it? Arthur and Gwen and you, ruling merry little Camelot with the big bad king gone, and none of the guilt for getting rid of him."

"And all of the guilt for you," he says quietly.

"You hate him too," she challenges.

"Even if I did," he says, his voice just a little too controlled, "love doesn't have to be like hate. It can be more than. If I hated Uther, I could love Arthur more. You could have loved him more. Loved Gwen more. Hate is not enough. Love can be."

"There is no love left in me," she says. "He killed it."

"I don't believe that," Merlin says.

II

Gwen exhales, her fingers still digging into his shoulders as all the heat seems to rush to her face, almost burning against his palm as he lifts one hand to her cheek. He cannot look away, his other hand steadying her as her head falls backwards and her body shudders.

Guinevere, he thinks, and when she recovers enough to press against him and kiss him, it is his body that gives in and she who watches him.

Afterwards, she rests her head against his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest more and more slowly until they just come to a standstill over his heart.

"I love you," she tells him just before she falls asleep; he lies awake thinking about love and hate and and wonder if either is ever enough.

II

When Morgana kisses him, it's all desperation and no love. 

Merlin still kisses her back.

II

In the middle of the night Arthur and Gwen come together down, hands linked and with no guards.

"You are going to leave," Arthur tells her, turning the key in the door. "The guards will think you have escaped when someone carelessly forgot to lock the cell door."

Gwen stretches out a hand, for a moment looking like she means to give a hug, but then pulls back.

"What is this? Forgiveness?" Morgana asks sharply, but Gwen shakes her head.

"It is mercy," she says, swallowing a little. "It is our choice to give it."

"If you harm Camelot again, I must come after you," Arthur says. "That is your choice, Morgana."

"Perhaps one day we will meet again," Gwen says. She sounds almost hopeful, but then, that is Gwen. Seeing the best in everyone, and Arthur looks at her as if it's all he wants to see.

If Uther had remained an obstacle between them, she wonders how long just love had been enough for them.

II

Merlin climbs up to join them on the walls as Arthur and Gwen watches Morgana ride off, a lone figure in the first rays of sun.

"I am going to allow magic in the kingdom again," Arthur says after a moment. "Hiding it seems to force more people to evil than magic itself. But don't think that means you're escaping the lye, you sorcerer idiot."

Merlin merely rolls his eyes at that threat, and Gwen hides a small smile.

"What do you think Morgana will do?" she asks, squeezing Arthur's hand lightly.

"I don't know," he says frankly. "I hope... I hope..."

"I know," she says, and watches the figure grow more and more distant until there is nothing left to see but the sunrise.

II

When she has ridden so far she can no longer see the walls of Camelot, Morgana stops her horse and closes her eyes to the light of a new day.

She can ride to Morgause, and together they work against Camelot. She can find the druids and maybe master her magic and find Mordred again. She can ride into the unknown and forge another path.

Her choice, they said. To find hate enough, or to find love enough. Her choice.

Time to make it, then.

She opens her eyes and rides into the day; it's going to be a beautiful one.

FIN 


End file.
